Chronic Pain

I extinguish the leafy, warm lamp.

Behind my daughter’s elemental

mind, a second

mind spins; it captures

that moment’s pig, squeaking

with a voice that separates worldly love

from a spiritual love. You can’t compare it

to the drown and out medication

sinking her like the bricks

of Atlantean streets.

Flickering stops

quickfire thoughts; development curls
the branches of a Trinitarian tree over her

sleeping pillow, wipes everything new,

hushes the furnace of

each aching synapse.

Her night bear stitches the

seashells to her pain. You can’t

show this type of love human 
to human. Still, sandy blonde matted,
eyes marbled, she clenches a Roseart yellow

crayon in her vengeful teeth. She swings

the monster’s club,

observes my heart,

discovers lost cousins

in the indian forests.